Embracing Roses
by Lynx the Tormentor
Summary: What if the one you loved most was close enough to see, but not to touch? What if they had the appearance of a rose, but when you picked them, a thorn pierced your loving hand? A lover’s tale of embracing roses, TxP


Embracing Roses

What if the one you loved most was close enough to see, but not to touch? What if they had the appearance of a rose, but when you picked them, a thorn pierced your loving hand? A lover's tale of embracing roses, TxP

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**Author's Note:** Another Trunks & Pan from me, this one has more angst than 'Once So Blue' and the basic plot is, Trunks is getting married and Pan is in love with him, but I plan on delving deeper, yes Trunks is getting married to Marron, no Marron is not a conniving slut. This one will hopefully be deeper than most of the horrible fanfics I've read with the same plot. Please everyone give it a chance, true it's been done a thousand times, but it's my take on the idea. This will stay in Pan's perspective, though not first person. Think of how J.K. Rowling writes everything through Harry's eyes and then you'll have it.

**Ages: **Pan: 17, Trunks: 28, Marron: 23, Goten: 27, Bra: 16, and Uub: 21

**Couples: **As of this moment: Trunks/Marron, Bra/OC, Goten/Pares, Uub and Pan are single. Couples by the Completion: Trunks/Pan, Goten/Marron, Uub/Pares, Bra will be single.

**Disclaimer: **The characters presented in the following story are owned rightfully by Akira Toriyama and Bird Studios; I merely borrowed them for my own enjoyment.

So that's all for the notes and what not, onto the read…

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Embracing Roses Chapter 1

_The Rose_

In the modern romantic society and all throughout history, one of the most meaningful and loving acts a human could do is to give one's lover a rose.

Roses come in a variety of colors, shapes, and sizes; a different meaning is assigned to each rose. The red rose is the symbol of deep passion, the yellow rose is the symbol of friendship, and the black rose is a symbol of tragedy.

Through their differences in shapes and colors, all roses, beautiful and defined as one of the most prestigious flowers in the world, have one thing in common.

That thing being the thorns that so attentively swathe the rose's green stem.

Like all beautiful creatures, the rose has a hidden ugly side, which often pricks you before you can stop yourself from going too far. The thorns are symbolic of all beautiful humans, striking on the surface, but delve further and a sea of sharp scornful thorns awaits to prick a prying hand.

In a way, would the emotion known as love not be symbolically linked to the rose as well? Presenting you with beautiful thoughts and feelings yet stinging you with rejection and pain, a suffering that unlike the prick of a rose does not heal over a short length of time.

Many men and women of all races have felt the thorns of at least one 'rose', often they don't look hard enough, blindly jumping into a relationship, only to get pricked deeply, but though they're hurt, they move on to other flowers, they'll move on to other roses, only more cautious with the next rose, carefully watching out for the thorns before finally they pick it with great ease and satisfaction, and though the rose may wilt and die, the good memories it radiated will never be forgotten.

But what about the unfortunate souls who go after the same rose that pricked their hand, even as delicate emotional 'flesh' is scarred, they stay watching, aching for the one rose that evades their grasp, the one that evades their heart.

They love the rose more than one could possibly comprehend, they mournfully embrace the rose and it's cruel thorns, for their hearts cannot be swayed, no matter what their minds tell their stubborn heart, no matter how many times the rose pricks them, the broken picker waits, bleeding, crying, and loving the rose for everything it is and hating themselves for allowing the rose to become their whole reason for existence.

Roses are, after all, the symbols of our greatest hope, beauty, and inspiration, while at the same time, the symbols of our greatest suffering, pain, and heartache…

A small figured woman sat on a wooden bench with a red rose in her hands, slowly picking the petals one by one. They fell to the ground in a pile of red velvet. Her hands were petite and pale and seemed to shift in a robotic motion, as if she was picking the petals off the stem as an afterthought. Her coal colored eyes appeared to stare off in a cheerless glaze, tears causing them to shimmer like crystal pools. Her cheeks were slightly pink and her lips were tinged red and puffy, as if she had been crying, and stringy damp strands of her jet-black hair framed her face.

It was raining outside, which would explain why her hair was damp, the raindrops came down in a slow somber rhythm as if the sky was mourning with the despondent woman holding the red rose. The tin roof above her wasn't doing a very good job of protecting her from the rain, but it appeared the woman didn't care at all. Gently she wept, taking in silent unnoticed breaths.

The woman had achieved a lot in her life and had many things to be thankful for, her parents were both alive, healthy, and still together, she had brains, above average fighting abilities, close knit family & friends, money, and a natural beauty that gave even the most radiant of models a run for their money.

So why would a creature with so many reasons to be happy and carefree, be so cheerless and depressed, could it have something to do with a rose?

This woman was Son Pan, infamous Tomboy, granddaughter to Son Goku and ChiChi, best friend to Bra Briefs, and, in love with Trunks Briefs.

But like so many heart breaking roses, Trunks was engaged to marry Marron, unobtainable to the picker, who in this case, was Pan.

She couldn't remember how long she had loved him, or what exactly made her fall in love with him, she just knew she had always loved Trunks, even when she was small and couldn't understand the concept of roses, she felt something for Trunks, and the hurt that always came with it when he paid attention to an older, prettier girl than herself.

And now, when she was about to tell him how she felt, after working up the courage that eluded her for so many years, he comes out and says he's marrying Marron, a girl she'd known all her life, and a close friend of hers.

When those painful words left his mouth as his perfect lips formed into a joyous smile, it was as if a thorn had pierced her heart.

Briskly she fled the room, not wanting anyone to see her pain nor the tears flooding down her cheeks.

She didn't care it had been raining, or that she was clutching a rose by its stem, causing droplets of blood to run down her smooth hand.

His words echoed over and over in her head, a stinging reminder of all the unrequited affection and the rose she'd never have.

_"Everyone, Marron and I, we have an announcement to make." _

Pan knew what was coming, she had seen it in his eyes, and he had told her only a night before. He told her she was one of his best friends, and he wanted to tell her first. She pretended to be happy for him. The denial had set in, maybe he was just joking, and maybe it wouldn't last. But then at the party when he announced it, when he made it official…

"_We're getting married."_

The sound of Pan's heart shattering had been almost audible.

Everyone cheered and hugged the newly engaged couple, while Pan had slipped out of the room unnoticed. Pan held hope there was any sliver for her and Trunks until that last word, until the word she hated most, _married_. With this engagement, any hope for Trunks becoming Pan's rose had been smothered before it could even take a breath.

She had cried out all the tears she thought possible, no one had yet to come look for her; they must have still been celebrating with Trunks and Marron.

_"Pan, can I tell you something?" _

Pan's lips formed a thin line; they had been alone that night, just the two of them in his living room. They could talk for hours.

_"Sure Trunks."_

Something in her heart had been hoping for a miracle, that he would tell her he had a change of heart. That he was going to say he was in love with her, not Marron.

_"You're one of a my best friends, you have been for many years. Our relationship has changed so much and you've grown up. I trust you more than I think I've ever trusted anybody else."_

He built her up, her heart began to beat faster, and she was prepared to tell him she loved him too.

_"So I wanted to tell you that…I love Marron and I asked her to marry me."_

It had felt like her heart stopped beating, and suddenly she felt cold. It was as if ice had replaced the blood in her veins.

_Pan smiled, "Congratulations."_

She'd said her Congratulations in a hollow voice, one that was not her own. She kept her heart from cracking by holding on to the sliver of hope that maybe he would call it off, that maybe he was unsure of his feelings. She held onto that sliver of hope right up until he made the announcement to everyone, the one that shattered her world as she knew it.

A wave of new tears prickled behind Pan's eyes.

She was not about to cry again, at least not until she got home. Someone was bound to come out this time.

Pan dropped the rose stem, and took to the sky in a flash of white chi. She had to get away from this place; she had to do anything to clear her head. And the only thing she could think of was to sleep, sleep as long and as hard as she could.

When she made it to her room she didn't even pull off her shoes or her red dress, she fell into the bed. She was exhausted from crying so hard; it felt as if she'd been sparring with Vegeta for two days nonstop. The emotional strain was weighing down hard on her shoulders and she went to sleep as soon as her head hit the pillow…

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Author's Note: Tell me what all of you think of this one. Hopefully it'll get positive reviews. I am already half way through the second chapter, so please hold on for a little bit. And by the way fans of my other story Once So Blue, be looking for Chapter 9 to be out soon. I've been revising OSB so when y'all have the time, check it out and tell me what ya think.


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